


'She is'

by Helen8462



Series: Tumbler Prompts, Challenges and Other Inspired Vignettes [8]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Eternal Tide, F/M, Full Circle, Grief/Mourning, K. Beyer Characters - Freeform, Loss, Relaunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 20:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11215653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/pseuds/Helen8462
Summary: A glimpse into the moments after the most devastating words of his life.  What will he tell himself so that he can continue on without her?





	'She is'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts).



> Mia Cooper made me re-read the end of Eternal Tide. This is payback.
> 
> *Spoilers for the Kirsten Beyer novel, "Full Circle" and reference to "The Eternal Tide."*

The first thing he does is drop to his knees.

Shattered glass lies all around in equal amounts of large and minuscule shards. 

Their previously coherent, shiny surfaces have been irrecoverably destroyed upon impact with cobblestone – it mirrors what the man in front of him has just done to the entire universe with two simple words.  

“She is.”

They ring in his ears.

He begins sweeping the ground with his palms trying to clean up the damage he has just done.  It’s the only thing he can do at the moment - try to make something right.  

The glass scrapes and cuts him.  He begins to bleed.  A strong hand catches his wrist and stops his efforts.

With assistance he is led to sit back in a cold chair.

He doesn’t accept when the waiter comes to offer a glass of water.  He doesn’t protest when the maître d’ appears with a brush and pan to sweep away what's left.  He doesn’t flinch when the stones he had so carefully collected are discarded in the trash.  They don’t matter anymore.  Nothing does.

He doesn’t feel pain or sorrow.  He isn’t angry or even confused.  He is blank.  

 _Shock,_ he thinks in a flash of coherency.   _I’m in shock._ He is instantly hot and shaking.

Then he realizes he hasn’t been breathing.

 _One breath,_ he thinks.  _I need to take one breath._  

It is an eternity before his lungs fill again and when they do it is purely from muscle memory. The air burns. Existence now comes in gasps and chokes and then he blacks out.

He wakes in a familiar place.  But how he got home, he can’t remember.  All he can recall are the last words he heard.   _“She is.”_  Before the darkness has a chance to overtake him again he hears sounds coming from the hall.  

 _“One moment,”_ a voice says.  

He recognizes the timbre. _Mark,_ he thinks.   _That’s how I got home._

There is a muffled conversation taking place now between the man and someone else with a husky but feminine voice.  It is hard for him to make out as he swings his legs over the edge of his unkempt bed.  But for an instant it sounds just like….

It can’t be.

He runs and trips over his feet to reach the door with the urgency of a man on fire searching for water.  

He sees her from behind and his heart soars.  The fog, the pain, wrenching grief lifts for an instant until….

“Chakotay,” she says, turning slowly.  “I’m so sorry."  Then she’s coming to him.  “I know you were close to my sister.”

He falls through the floor and rolls once again into the pit that is now his life.

“Phoebe,” he chokes.  “I….”

She rushes to him - arms are thrown around his muscular shoulders.  And for an instant the sister feels like _she_ did.  Smells like _she_ did.  It’s almost too much to bear.

 _“One day_ ,” she sobs into his shoulder.  “One day we’ll make them pay for what they did to us.”

He says “yes” to support her, not because it matters.  Not because anything matters anymore.  He doesn’t even know who ‘they’ are yet.

When she finally releases him and they have come back to a point of calmness the three gather around his dining room table.

“We have some plans that we need to see to,” Mark says solemnly.  Then the man speaks of services and monuments and details that won’t stick in Chakotay’s mind. All he can really do is nod and hope that someone else will take care of whatever needs to be done.  

When the visitors have left and he is alone again in the deafening silence, he sits on a chair and stares out the window.  The bright, warm sunshine is unbefitting of the cold, dark emptiness in his soul.

 _I should be in space,_ he thinks.   _In darkness.  This isn’t right._

He closes his eyes to place himself away from the harsh light of reality.

_How.  How will I ever…?_

Then, as if whispered into his ear, words seep through.  They are clear and exacting - drawn from moments of the previous hours.  He opens his eyes.

 _One breath_ , he thinks.  And then he inhales, the fresh air purifies his mind.  

 _One moment,_ he knows.  And he looks upon the sky because that’s where she will always belong to him.  

 _One day_ , he believes.   _I will see her again._  And he is right.  

He just has to take this _one day at a time._

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: One breath, one moment, one day at a time. -K. Beyer, “The Eternal Tide”


End file.
